


I Think We Both Might Not Be All That Straight

by autocatic



Category: Trailer Park Boys
Genre: Bisexual Disasters, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Everyone else - Freeform, Heartwarming, I had some free time, M/M, Police Dumbality, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autocatic/pseuds/autocatic
Summary: Family sticks together, no matter what.
Relationships: Julian/Ricky (Trailer Park Boys), Ricky/Lucy (mentioned)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	1. Bubbles’ Hugs Are Earned, Not Given

“Boys, check it out!” Julian called out to his friends, Ricky and Bubbles, as he approached them with a big smile on his face. He wore a black gear, not that different from the usual, except his T-shirt had a huge ‘SECURITY’ printed on it, and so was the black cap he had on. “I got a job at the mall,” he said, and began telling them how great it was, told them about his shift hours.

“At the mall? Doin’ what?” Ricky, somehow not noticing the big, bold word on Julian’s T-shirt and cap, asked. 

Julian blinked. “Ricky, c’mon. It’s…” he gestured to his shirt, “Look.”

Sarcastically, Bubbles said, “he’s a cashier, Ricky,” and started giggling when Ricky seemed to buy it. 

“I’m a security man,” Julian told Ricky, who, by the look on his face, was still working on processing the information. 

Bubbles expressed how proud he was via praising Julian, telling him how happy he was that both his best friends are finally employed and had aged out of the crime life. Then, he pointed at his redhead friend. “Ricky got a legit job today, too!” his voice had a very happy tone to it, the one Julian and Ricky loved to hear; the one that Bubbles only used when he was at his utmost joyfulness. 

“Now way.” Julian noted that Ricky was carrying a toolbox. “Doin’ what? Carpentry?” 

Good guess. To be precise, Ricky was now a handyman. He was wicked good at fixing stuff, and fuck Marguerite for thinking otherwise and refusing to pay him. He was only doing his job -- installing a towel rack -- but her trailer was fucked, the walls and everything. One, single drill and the whole thing was falling the fuck apart. Not his fault. 

Bubbles wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulder in a tight hug, just the way they always did it. Ricky just stood there. “Ricky,” Bubbles said, “I’m proud of you, too. Get in here.” 

Ricky smiled at his friends. Bubbles’ pride in him never ceased to make him feel cherished; loved. It made him feel a whole other bunch of stuff, but mostly loved. 

“Get over here, man.” Julian gestured for Ricky to come over and share the hug with them, and Ricky did just that. Frankly, he thought he had sort of fucked up on his first day of the job, and that made him feel like he wasn’t worthy of Bubbles’ hugs; seeing as his friend only gave them hugs when they would do something noteworthy, as well as when they would get out of jail, and on merry occasions. An example of doing something noteworthy is getting a job. 

The trio hugged, and Bubbles purred in contentment, and Ricky’s eyes were on Julian. Julian’s smile was his _favoritest_ thing in the world, that was for sure. And when Julian’s eyes met his, he was never sure of it more. The most beautiful shade of blue were in his eyes, Ricky thought, then internally scolded himself for thinking of such sentimental bullshit.

He started cursing at his own brain, internally battling with his thoughts the way he always did. To Ricky, the greatest enemy was his brain; his own thinkings and thougtings.

“Aw, dudes, I love hugs!” Cory’s voice came from behind them, absolutely demolishing the happy moment. “Look, man.” Cory raised a glass bottle. “Fucking hero, dude, I found one. But the rest are all broken. What should I do?”

Bubbles remembered telling Cory to get him some glass bottles for the brewery not so long ago, which he, now, evidently regretted. Cory had broken a good Goddamn bunch of bottles, only coming back with the one that hadn’t suffered the same fate as its fellow bottles.

That didn’t disappoint Bubbles, really. Not at all. Cory wasn’t useful for many a task, and was a bit fucked in the head. But sometimes, Bubbles forgets about that. 

“Maybe, Cory, maybe you should go down and fuckin’ ram them in your stupid piss-hole.”

Ricky almost chokes with laughter at that. Julian, on the other hand, fights a laugh of his own, and Bubbles giggles lowly as he looks between his friends, then when he feels Cory’s presence standing still behind them, he tells him to go clean up the mess he’d made. “Don’t ruin the beautiful moments, Cory!” he adds. 

Ricky and Julian both pull away from Bubbles’ embrace at the same time, but Bubbles wasn’t going to let that happen. “I’m not givin’ up on my hugs,” said their affectionate friend. “My two best friends makin’ an honest living!” He looked at Ricky from the corner of his eyes. “Right, Ricky?”

“Right on, man,” replied Ricky, not meeting Bubbles’ eyes. 

If Bubbles had paid closer attention, he would’ve seen the way Ricky’s eyes were slightly but very visibly twitching, which always meant Ricky was lying. He didn’t, though. But Julian did. And he, too, was sort of lying about going ‘legit’. 

If Julian plays his cards right, he wouldn’t end up in jail. He knew what he was doing and had throughly studied it. Well, not exactly ‘throughly,’ but he had it all planned.

Julian and Ricky exchange a look of guilt, while Bubbles purrs contentedly as he tightens his hug. 


	2. Ricky Wore It Better

Julian’s plan was, to put it simply, hiring some folks, kids and adults, to steal items from the mall, so he could catch them in the act and pretend to save the day, which would result in Julian appearing like an accomplished security man; and that would triple, if not quadruple, his payment. 

Julian was a good actor, and whoever works for him better be one, too. Because if anyone, let alone the mall manager, fucking Gary, finds out about his plan, he would be fucked, to say the least.

He’d made a deal the Roc-pile to take care of stealing the pricey items. He would pay them a pound of weed, and promise them one-hundred bucks when they get the job done. And that’s that. For now, Julian wanted to have a few drinks before going to bed. A knock on the door, however, stood in the way of his plans. 

It was Sarah behind the door. “Hey,” greeted his friend, her hands thrusted in her jean pockets. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Julian. 

Sarah, then, started complaining about Ricky’s new girlfriend, Susan. And, honestly, Julian didn’t blame her; Susan was a pain in the ass, and she was mean to Ricky. She was taking advantage of Ricky’s feelings for her, although Julian wasn’t sure if Ricky wanted to be with her or just wanted someone to love him. In Julian’s opinion, the older someone gets, the needier they become to having a steady relationship in their life. He, himself, is a living example; he’d always tried to take the serious route in a relationship, but all the women he’d been with weren’t interested in that the least bit. 

“Ricky’s so stupid. He’s never gonna break up with her.”

Julian nodded. “I know. I know,” he said. “I heard he was seeing her tonight. I just stay the fuck away. That’s what I do.” Then, he asked: “She still over there?” 

“Yeah, and she says she’ll move in! They’ve been fucking like crazy for fucking hours. And, because of that, I don’t have a place to stay tonight. I’m sure as hell not staying there, with all that greasy fucking!”

Julian rubs a hand on his eyes. “I was gettin’ ready to go to bed. I got to work in the morning--“

Then, Sarah notices the mountain of stuff in Julian’s living area and goes to inspect it. “What’s all that shit?” 

“I’m decorating the place.”

“You’ve got a bunch of cool new stuff!”

“Yeah, it’s cool but it’s overwhelming. I don’t know where to put it all.”

A cartoonish, invisible lightbulb pops up above Sarah’s head. “You let me stay over just for one night, and I’ll help you redecorate the whole place.” 

Julian weighs the pros and cons for a couple of nanoseconds, and finds that there is no cons involved. “One night?”

“Yeah,” said Sarah. “I can make it look fucking amazing.”

“Alright,” Julian agreed. “Do you want a drink?”

“You’re fucking right I want a drink!”

“Okay, let’s get drunk.”

Julian headed to his kitchenette, where his liquor was, lying on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“You got scotch there?”

“You bet I do.”

“Then scotch, please. On the rocks.” 

“Comin’ right up.” Julian said, screwing a bottle of Walker’s scotch whiskey open. He’d probably taken that from Jim at some point. The old man owed him, after all. 

Julian sits the the glass of scotch on the counter and invites Sarah to have a seat on one of the barstools. His friend sat there and was silent for sometime. 

“You know what, Julian,” she began. “I thought if someone could tolerate a relationship with Ricky, it would be no one else but you.” She let some silence pass. “I mean, Lucy’d had enough of him, and Susan is only in for the sex. These two were, by far, the only serious relationships Ricky ever had. But you-- you and him are actually perfect for each other. Like, you guys complete each other. In a very fucked-up way, though.”

Julian was going to laugh if Sarah hadn’t sounded so serious. “Me and Ricky? Really? No fuckin’ way.”

Sarah chuckled. “Says the guy who fixes his hair whenever Ricky’s around. Who the fuck are you kiddin’, sweetie?” 

Julian was shocked as to how she noted that, but then remembered it was Sarah, whose field of profession was knowing everything to do with her friends’ lives. 

Sarah started whirling a finger around the rim of her glass. “Seriously…I think you’ve always been in love with Ricky.” A pause. “You oughta tell him, sometime.”

Julian‘s eyes were affixed on his own glass. “Sarah, I’m--”

“Don’t you lie to my face, Julian. I’ve known you my whole life, and I’ve seen the way you are around him most of the time. When we were kids, you used to worship him. Worshipped the fuckin’ ground he walks on. But I didn’t know you loved him ‘til that one time we got drunk out of our minds and you vomited all your feelings toward him on me. Boy, do I wish I had that on a tape!” She laughed at the memory, and took a sip from her scotch. 

Julian remembered that too well. He was but seventeen years old back then, and that was around the time he started developing not-so-platonic feelings for his best friend. Sarah was a good friend of his as well as a drinking buddy, and he knew she wasn’t the least bit judgmental, so it was easy for him to blurt all his secrets to her. He trusted her. All the things nobody knew, Sarah had always known. 

“Look at me, Sarah. I’m fuckin’ old. Ricky’s old, too. He wants a woman to settle down with, and I’m just a guy who can barely take care of himself.”

“Look what being a pussy did to you,” Sarah said with a grimace. “Age doesn’t matter, Julian. Years are gonna fly by and you still wouldn’t have told Ricky. And it’s gonna hurt you when Ricky’s gone before you tell him. It’s gonna fucking hurt.”

“Jesus, Sarah!” 

“That’s the truth. No one lives forever. So, as a friend and a Sunnyvale resident, I think it’s best if you do it now. Tell him now.”

“Sure, I’ll just stop by Ricky’s place, lookin’ super casual, to tell him I’ve loved him since as far as I can remember but I never told him ‘cause I’m scared of rejection and what-the-fuck-not.”

“Yeah, good point. You should put on a suit or something. Gotta look great for the big confession.”

“I’m the only one allowed to be sarcastic here,” Julian said, pointing at himself. 

“You got a little buzz going; you can do this. Go, now.”

Julian shifted on his feet.

Fuck it, he thought, gulping the rest of his drink down. He checked his phone for the time, and his newfound confident vanished. “Now-now?” he asked, unsure. 

Sarah smirked. “I mean, no one knows when’s the right time, am I right?”

“It’s late, Sarah. God, I’ll look--“

“Pussy. That’s what you’ll look like if you don’t go now,” said Sarah, raising the glass to her lips.

Julian sat his own glass down on the counter, and his traveling gaze came upon a picture of him, Bubbles and Ricky that Bubbles had hung on his wall when he’d moved back in. It was probably just a fleeting moment of courage, but Julian was already walking to the door. 

He was about to do something very fucking stupid, and if worst comes to worst, he’s going to pretend to be high and wasted out of his brain. 

He walked over to Ricky’s trailer, his hands shaking only a little. He heard distant sounds of footsteps and quiet mutterings behind him, and when he turned, it was the whole camera crew, following him; filming him. “What the fuck do you guys want? Go back to your homes or somethin’.” The crew stopped dead in their tracks but didn’t leave. Julian didn’t want to lose his temper, but he might if they didn’t fuck off. “Fuckin’ get away! Git!” 

When they finally do leave him, Julian takes a deep breath, then resumes walking, now surprisingly more relaxed. 

When at Ricky’s doorstep, Julian fixed his hair and adjusted his shirt. He knocked the door, four of five times, and only then did he realize that he hadn’t prepared what he was going to tell Ricky. The realization hit him suddenly. He didn’t know what to say to Ricky! Julian had always been a man with a plan, never had he done anything before carefully planning and preparing for it. 

He felt as though his legs would give up on him any minute now, and breathing felt like a chore all at once. 

He was going to fuck this up. He knew he was. Ricky was all about pussies and titties -- he was as straight as they come, and Julian couldn’t believe he didn’t even bear that in mind before growing the right size of balls to come here. What he was about to do could possibly put their friendship at risk. The thought alone almost made him nauseous. 

The door was pulled open, and a bone-tired Ricky was before him, holding a stick of a half-eaten pepperoni. His hair was muddled and unstyled. Gravity had obviously failed to bring down some of the stray strands. “What’s up, Jules?” he said in mid-chew.

Each corner of Julian’s mouth were drawn upward at the sight of a very tired -- and dare he say, adorable -- Ricky. “You look fucked. What happened?” asked Julian. 

“Fuck. Don’t remind me.” Ricky took a bite of his pepperoni. “Fuck--fuckin’ Susan! She broke up with me. Again!” Ricky’s tone changed, becoming raspier and strangely deeper, indicating that he was either crying or was going to. 

Susan didn’t deserve Ricky, Julian was sure of that. Neither did Lucy, and most women that he’d been with. They all thought him stupid and careless, and only cared about their sexual advantage. 

Ricky had the heart of a little child, but a lot of people didn’t seem to know that. He cared wholeheartedly, and loved so enormously, deeply and truthfully. 

“Hey, man, c’mon. Don’t be cryin’,” said Julian, inching closer to Ricky. “C’mere,” he took Ricky in his arms, placed a soothing hand over his back, and softly massaged it while managing to still hold onto his glass of rum and coke. 

Ricky wept and sniffled in his friend’s arms, wrapping his own around Julian’s lower back. 

Julian’s nose brushed against Ricky’s cheek, and he kept his face there, close enough to feel Ricky’s eyelashes tickling his face. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered, and his hand traveled up to comb through Ricky’s soft hair. “It’s not your first heartbreak, bud. C’mon, toughen up!”

Ricky sniveled and took a couple of deep breathes. “Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right,” he said in that foreign, feeble voice. “But she fuckin’ dumped me over the stupidest reason you could imagic!”

“Chicks do that sometimes,” said Julian as he let go of Ricky.

“Wanna get drunk and smoke some dope?” Ricky asked, wiping at his eyes. 

“Fuck yeah. Let’s get fuckin’ wasted.” Replied Julian. 

If there is one thing that could bandage up Ricky’s broken heart, it‘s weed. Only getting stoned could do that to him.

Julian followed Ricky into his trailer, smiling to himself. He would tell Ricky another day; right now, what his friend needed was a drink, a joint and a good company. And he would stick around until Ricky giggles himself to sleep. 

In the morning, Julian wakes with slight pain in his backside. He rubs his eyes, yawns and scratches his chest lightly. It takes him a few moments to make out the room he’s in; it’s Ricky’s bedroom. He thinks he must have accidentally fallen asleep sometime around his eleventh drink, but is not sure. He turns his head to the side, and sees a sleeping Ricky with his back to him. He smiles, and it’s only a matter of time before Julian realizes he is completely naked. Not freaking out yet, he gets closer to Ricky and lifts the sheet off just a bit. 

Now, he is freaking the fuck out, because Ricky is as naked as well and there’s only one explanation to that: they’d banged. 

Julian gets off the bed in search of his clothes, and when he doesn’t find his shirt, he borrows one of Ricky’s loose-fitting button-ups, because the last thing he wants is to be another topless guy in this park, and leaves as quick as he can. 

He makes sure to grab his glass off Ricky’s dining table on the way out. 

He is internally freaking out as he walks to his trailer, feeling as though all eyes are on him. Then, he runs into Lahey and Randy, tells them off and keeps walking, deciding that he would put the fear of God in these two idiots someday later. 

Bubbles, who was driving his Go-kart to deliver beer boxes, stops to greet him. He notices the shirt, and says: “Ricky wore it better, Julian, but nice try,” then chuckles and drives off. So far, no one is suspecting anything. But, then, Sarah sees him and recognizes Ricky’s shirt. She laughs, hyena-like. 

“Oh, shit! You guys totally fucked!” She said, not loud for others to hear, but loud enough for Julian to consider it loud. “Come on, spill the beans. How’d it go?”

Julian took a sip from his neat rum and remained silent for a long moment. 

“I don’t fuckin’ remember, Sarah, that’s how.”

Sarah was insistent, though. “Aw, come on. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

It was unexpected, abrupt and unpromising when the loud shrill of the police sirens were heard in the park. Julian and Sarah shared a look of dismay. 

He, surprisingly, didn’t know what they came here for, and as a police car approached his trailer, Julian took a long swig of his rum. 

Two cops get out of the squad car, and thankfully, neither of them was Ted. Julian didn’t want to deal with asshole, at all. 

He didn’t even open his mouth yet when Ricky’s voice came out of nowhere: “Hey, guys,” he said, coming to stand next to Julian. “You seem like a nice couple of new-bees. How can I for-to help you?”

“I’m sorry, what?” said one officer. 

Ricky went on. “You see, we’re a little tired. Been in Moncton the last few days. What do you need?”

One of the officers, the tallest one, sighed and rubbed his eyebrows before walking toward Julian. “Hands behind your back, sir. Up against the car, please,” he said, as he grabbed Julian arms. He withdrew Julian’s glass of rum from his hands, and Ricky was the one who took it. The officer held his wrists tightly from behind, saying, “You’re under arrest for shoplifting and theft over one-thousand dollars. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“I know the fuckin’ drill, alright!” said Julian. “There must be some kind of a misunderstanding here. I didn’t steal a Goddamn thing!

“We have all the tapes from Gary, the mall manager.”

Julian was one-hundred-percent sure he had stolen all the security camera tapes. _How did Gary even--_ It took him a few second before realizing how; Gary must’ve had a back-up system. 

Fucking Gary. 

“Load him up,” said the tall officer to his partner.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me. I know how to get in a car.” Julian pushed the other officer now-behind him, and got into the backseat of the police cruiser. 

Ricky made his way to the car, bent down, and looked at Julian through the window. “I’ll look after your glass, buddy. See you soon.”

“You too. And, Ricky…” said Julian. “Don’t tell Bubbles, will ya?”

“You got it, bud.”

As if on cue, Bubbles arrived at the scene. He parked his Go-kart and got out. “What’s happenin’?” asked Bubbles, his voice worried. 

“Shit. You take care of that,” Julian told Ricky, and the police car drove off. 

Ricky was left to deal with Bubbles, who glared at him, demanding answers and explanations. “What the fuck just happened!” he said, yelling the last part. 

Ricky scratched his head, turned to Sarah, who was silent, but was telling him to make something up through the movements of her eyes.

“It’s just police dumbality, Bubbs. That’s all there is for-to know. You know how author-titties are; rollin’ around, arrestin’ peoples--”

Bubbles kept glaring.

“Alright, I’ll tell you. But promise you won’t get mad.” 

And then, Ricky told Bubbles the truth. Involuntarily so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word of the Day: Author-titties


	3. Trialmageddon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all enjoy this chapter! <33

A day after Julian’s arrest, Ricky and Bubbles visit him in jail. They sit with him, talk about Julian’s trial and chat for bit while Bubbles panics quietly. Not a long while later, Julian’s money-grubbing attorney, Steinberg, walks into the visiting room. That scumbag was, hands down, one of the greediest lawyers Julian had ever hired, and that’s saying something. 

He walked over to the table that Julian, Ricky and Bubbles occupied and took a seat. He was silent for a long time, sitting dumbly. And after some silence, he uttered a “Fuck”. 

Julian furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“We have a serious fucking problem.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about? You said you had this all figured out!” Ricky hissed angrily. “‘Slam-dunker,’ you called it!”

“Yeah, I did,” said Steinberg. “I had a deal with the prosecutor. A buddy of mine, owed me a favor. Then the stupid bastard goes and gets arrested yesterday. Cocaine charges.”

“Oh, my fuck!” Bubbles cried softly. 

“Now the new prosecutor’s apparently a real hard-ass; a hungry up-and-coming bitch. The slimy… _dragon queen_ is gonna go for the maximum: five to seven years.” 

“What?! Five to seven ye--” Bubbles was now panicking, big-time. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

“Yeah, well, I hate to say this,” Steinberg turned to face Julian, “but my advice for you is to plead guilty.”

“Huh!” exclaimed Bubbles, disbelieving. 

Steinberg continued: “I could probably get it down to two or three… y’know, out in a year on good behavior.”

Ricky looked at Julian, now-calm, and shrugged. “It’s better than fucking seven.”

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?!” Bubbles all-but yelled at Rick. “He’s talkin’ about years, Ricky, not months! Two to three fuckin’--! That can’t happen. That can’t happen. There’s got to be another fuckin’ way!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Steinberg said, bringing the three men’s all-embracing attention back to him. “I’ve got an idea, and it’s a long shot. Longer than Huey Lewis’s cock,” he paused for dramatic purposes. “you gotta get the mall security manager to lie in court. Getting this case thrown out is the only way Julian’s not gonna go to jail today. Now, if we go that angle, it’s gonna be another eight--no, let’s say, five grand for me, okay?”

The boys all groaned in unison. 

“Now, trials are not cheap,” said Steinberg. “But, frankly, don’t you think it’s important that we get our fellow out of here?” He faked a tearful, trembling tone, laying a hand on Julian’s shoulder for emotinoal emphasis. 

“Would you cut that bullshit?” was what Julian told him, batting his hand away. 

“Alright,” muttered Steinberg. 

“Nobody’s buyin’ your fuckin’ tears,” Bubbles whispered to the insincere douche of a lawyer. He, then, said: “So, you’re sayin’ we need to do a bunch more illegal stuff to deal this fuckin’ illegal--”

Bubbles stopped short, whimpering. He was anxious and distorted and felt very helpless. One of his two closest friend would go to jail for years, and he couldn’t feel anything but misery.

“Bubbs, listen,” Ricky began, “We’ve got to fuckin’ try, don’t we?”

Bubbles sighed harshly. “Yes!” he said, followed by a small whimper.

“Rick,” Julian said, “go see lahey. See what money you can get from him, okay? Whatever you can get, man. He owes us big-time.”

“I’ll do it. Whatever the fuck it takes, me and Bubbles will do it.” Ricky assured him. “You’re not going to fuckin’ jail today.”

“Thanks, boys,” said Julian, a hint of a smile on his face.

* * *

Ricky drove to the mall, Bubbles with him. When they arrived there, he stepped out of the car, and didn’t even have to look for Gary;because the man was standing at the gate, talking into a walkie talkie. 

Ricky lit a cigarette, then walked over to him with Bubbles. 

“What’s up, Gary!” greeted Ricky, faking enthusiasm.

Gary turned around when he heard Ricky’s voice. “Ricky,” he said, acknowledging him, “what can I do for you, bud?” 

He  noticed Bubbles who stood behind Ricky, and waved awkwardly at him.  Ricky, not one to play around the bush, said bluntly, “would you lie at court for two grand?”

Gary blinked, registering the offer. “Two grand?”

“Yes!” said Bubbles. 

“For lying in court? You’re asking for perjury!”

“Alright. Three grand, and--” he pointed his thumb at Bubbles, “--you can take him in the back room and do whatever you want.”

Bubbles jumped in with, “What? No fuckin’ way!”

“Five grand,” decided Gary. 

Ricky cursed internally. “Five?” 

“Yes. Five G’s, and Bubbles has to grease the wheels on every fucking cart at the mall!”

“Oh, yeah, just-- that’s a four-hundred-eighty dollars value!”

Gary shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the deal.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ricky sighed. “Fine! Done deal.”

“Meet you at the courthouse before the trial,” said Gary, before turning on his heels.

“Fuck,” muttered Rick, watching with loath as Gary walked away.

“Fuckin’ prick!” Bubbles shout-whispered, not loud enough to jab into Gary’s ears, but loud enough for him to hear. 

“Between him and Steinberg, now we’re at ten fuckin’ grand,” said Ricky. 

“Ten-thousand!” Bubbles repeated, trying to comprehend how Ricky could say it so monotonously, as though it was a ten without three zeros on the right. 

“I know, but it’s less than a million,” reasoned Ricky. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” sighed Bubbles. “Less than a fuckin’ million.”

* * *

_ Plan A _

The boys went to Lahey’s place to threaten him for money, doing what Julian told them to do. But, like the drunk fuck-up that James Lahey was , he had spent all his money -- the money that Ricky and Julian had almost lost their lives for -- gambling, according to an upset Randy who hastily blurted the truth to Ricky and Bubbles. 

George was sitting at a table on Lahey’s porch, watching as Lahey faked remorse upon learning about Julian’s trial. His right hand travelled down to where his gun was, tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and he took it out and placed it over the small table. 

“If you know what’s best for you, you might wanna fuck off,” said George in a cold tone. “And if you guys are smart, you’ll forget all about your friend Julian; let him rot in jail, where he belongs.”

Ricky clenched his jaw. “Why don’t you shut your pie-hole, there, penis nose?” he said. “Let me promise you this: we’re gonna have ten grand by the time he gets to court. We’re gonna get him out. When that happens, he’s gonna come back here, make all your fuckin’ lives a living, fuckin’ hell! I can’t wait to see that, boys! I can’t fuckin’ wait!” 

Before leaving, Ricky threw a “you stupid, shitty not-cop!” at George, while Bubbles commented on the beard he’d grown, saying: “that’s one shitty beard right there, George,” and turned to leave. 

Lahey snickered at that, although he’d been at the two men’s mercy not a few seconds ago. 

“What if they do raise ten-thousand and get Julian out of jail? Our lives could be fucked, Mr. Lahey!” said Randy, fear and worry washing over him. 

Lahey scoffed. “Oh, relax, Randy! As if those shitiots could come up with ten grand today.”

“You know, Jim, this has always been your downfall,” said George. “Always underestimate those guys, always end up getting fucked.”

That earned another scoff from Lahey. “Well, I guess you better do something about it, eh, Georgie Porgie, Pudding-y pie?”

George got off his chair, gun in hand. “Already on it,” the ex-cop said, descending the porch stairs. 

* * *

_ Plan B _

The boys had to come up with a new plan to get the money. However, raising money through donations was what Bubbles had suggested. So, they drove around Sunnyvale in Ricky’s Sedan, Ricky talking over a loudspeaker, telling the residents to donate their money and belongings so that they can help Julian. 

All the people responded to Ricky’s fundraise; everyone approached his vehicle, putting whatever they came with in the car’s trunk. 

“…Attention, attention. People of Sunnyvale, our beloved Julian, sexiest man in Sunnyvale, is gonna fuckin’ go to jail for seven fuckin’ years unless we come up with ten-thousand dollars in the next few hours,” Ricky said into the loudspeaker. 

When he and Bubbles got out of the car to inspect the items in the trunk, all they found was a bunch of cheap shit. 

Ricky lost his temper as his eyes roamed over the trunk. “Thanks for all your fuckin’ help, all you cheap motherfuckers!” he yelled, at no one in particular. “You couldn’t give a shit? Remember this next time you need our fuckin’ help!” 

Ricky, then, tried to calm his nerves by looking at his daughter; the sight of her like a tranquilizer to him, reminding him that no matter how fucked-up life could get, he still had Trinity with him.

“Man, most of this stuff is garbage. It ain’t worth shit,” said Tyrone, eyes examining a painting that he’d found in the Himalayas of stuff in Ricky’s car trunk. 

“I know it’s not,” replied Ricky. 

Sarah, who was rummaging through the stuff in hopes to find something of value, said, “except somebody donated a bunch of sex toys.” She chuckled. “Maybe it was Marguerite.” 

“It was Marguerite, but it’s not worth anything!” said Bubbles, a whimper in his voice. 

“Man, there’s no way we’re gonna be able to make enough cash,” Tyrone said, despondent. “There’s, like, one-hundred dollars worth of shit here if we’re lucky.”

Ricky gazed over at the trunk, thinking. “Well, you know what? There’s one other choice.” He turned to his daughter. “Trin, go in the trailer, get all my masks, four or five guns. We’re gonna have to rob a bank, or somewhere with a lot of money.” 

Ricky was willing to do whatever it took to save Julian; assure that his friend won’t spend another day in jail. He was determined to get the money, be it through breaking the law or not. 

“Dad, what the fuck? You’re not robbing a fucking bank!” disapproved Trinity. 

“What other choice do we have right now, Trin?” 

“Ricky,” Bubbles whimpered. “Ricky, please, please… The last thing I fuckin’ need is my other best friend in jail. Please, we’re not robbing a bank. There’s got to be something!

“Seriously, man. Think about what you’re sayin’, Rick,” said Tyrone 

“Alright! What the hell are we gonna do then, huh?” said Ricky, settling his hands on either side of his waist. “Because this shit right here--” he strode angrily toward the trunk of the car, grabbing the first thing his hand touched and throwing it away in fury, “--this shit ain’t gonna fuckin’ cut it, is it?” he shouted loudly, at everyone who’d donated in Sunnyvale, although most of them were not present to witness his raging reaction. 

“Ricky!” Bubbles called his friend’s name. 

“We’re fucked! We fucked up! We fuckin’ blew it!” Ricky yelled, stressing that they’d mightily fucked up. 

“Ricky, just calm down,” said Bubbles, whimpering. “Don’t smash the stuff we do have!”

Ricky took a deep breath as he ran a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t help the rage that took over his senses when he’d seen how little the people of Sunnyvale -- his family, for fuck’s sake -- had helped them. 

“Shit, you guys!” All at once, a smile appeared on Sarah’s face. “Check it out!” she tipped her chin toward the trailer park’s residents who were now-walking over to Ricky’s car. 

Alvena, an old, sweet lady who had always lived in Sunnyvale, approached Ricky with a gentle smile on her face. “This is all we could get together, guys, but thank you so much for what you’re doing for Julian.”

Ricky softened. He placed a hand over Alvena’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said, suddenly ashamed of the way he’d reacted-- overreacted. 

“Pile it up there, everybody,” Bubbles guided the people through the process of putting the items in the trunk, beaming happily. 

Ricky looked at his fellow Sunnyvale-ians with hopefulness in his eyes. Marguerite, whose bathroom Ricky hadn’t fixed yet, came up to him. “Thank you,” she said to him, unexpectedly not bringing up the bathroom issue. 

“I notice you don’t have anything.”

“I just came to see what you got,” smiled Marguerite. 

Ricky took hold of her opera necklace. “Yeah, we’re gonna need that,” he said as he took it off her neck. 

“Oh, for Jesus’ sake! Take it,” Marguerite said with a chuckle. 

Then, surprisingly, Donnie came along, barefoot and screaming, God knows why. He carried a television in his arms. “Will you take this fuckin’ thing before I change my fuckin’ mind!?” he screamed, pushing the TV into Bubbles’ chest. 

“Calm down,” said Bubbles, supporting the weight of the television with his arms. “You don’t have to give it away.”

“Lost the fuckin’ remote anyway!” And with that, Donnie, in all his house robe glory, left. 

“Well, thanks,” Ricky called after the screaming, raging man. “Fucking lunatic.”

Bubbles laughed. “Holy fuck, Ricky!” he gestured to the Sedan’s trunk. “We’re not dead yet!”

* * *

Ricky and Bubbles headed to a pawn shop downtown; two guys from the film crew accompanied them, sitting inthe backseat, filming them. 

“We hate dealing with the pawn shop owner. He’s a fuckin’ son of a whore,” Ricky said to the camera and the sound guys in the backseat. “But he’s the only game in town, unfortunately, so we’ve got no fuckin’ choice.”

When Ricky parked his car, he slid over to the passenger door to get out, forgetting that the car he was driving was not the good ol’ shitmobile. 

“Ricky, what are you doin’ gettin’ out the passenger door?” asked Bubbles, chuckling.

Ricky mirrored Bubbles’ chuckle. “You know what? Force of _habitat_!”

Bubbles’ car and truck, along with Ricky’s and two of the Roc-pile’s cars, had their trunks filled to the brim with donated shit. They were sure that they’d, at least, be leaving with five-thousand.

The pawn shop owner, Frankie, walked out of his shop, looking at the vehicles in his parking lot. 

Bubbles walked up to him. “Look, we got a big load of merchandise here, comin’ in, givin’ you the fuckin’ dibs on it,” he pointed at all five automobiles. “Look, we got all this, everything in the vehicles here. We wanted to show it to you.”

Frankie glanced over at the vehicles. “You wanna sell or you wanna pawn?” he asked. 

“No,” Bubbles said, “we are lookin’ to sell everything at once. One big sale.”

“Alright, alright,” said Frankie. “Lemme see what my pet orca thinks-- Shamu!” he called what turned out to be an overweight, massive man. “Gimme a number.”

The big man examined each vehicle. “There’s a lot of nice merchandise here,” he said. “About fifteen… and a bucket of chicken?”

“Fifteen, huh? Exactly what I was thinkin’,” Frankie nodded. “Hey, who knew whales could add, right?” he said to Ricky and Bubbles.

Frankie’s joke, however, seemed to have pissed off Shamu.

“Listen, you Don Corleone motherfucker!” yelled Shamu. “I’ve had just enough of your bullying!”

“Bullying?” Frankie looked at his employee with furrowed eyebrows. “I fucking complimented you! I said you were good in arithmetic.”

Shamu who, by the way, held a stuffed kitty in his arms, decided to take his boss’s joke as a compliment. 

“Excuse me, that better not be a fuckin’ real kitty you’re holdin’ there,” said Bubbles in an unintentionally threatening tone. 

“Hey, don’t worry; it’s not a real kitty,” Frankie reassured Bubbles. “If I gave him a real one, he’d fuckin’ eat it.”

“Okay, whoa, whoa…” Ricky said. “Fifteen what?”

Frankie blinked at him. “Fifteen grand for the whole shooting match, like he fuckin’ just said.”

Ricky’s face shone with delight. “We did it, Bubbles!” 

“We did it!” Bubbles repeated, giggling happily as he squeezed Ricky in a hug.

“Yeah, well, hang on,” Frankie said. “Listen, I’ve got to run numbers on all these vehicles, alright?” A pause. “If they clear… it’s fifteen Gs, cash.”

Bubbles blinked. “What? Run num-- No, no, wait a second.” He looked at the shop owner as though he’d grown another set of eyes. “No, the vehicles aren’t part of the deal.”

“No,” Ricky shook his head. 

“Just the merchandise in the vehicles,” Bubbles clarified. 

Frankie made a face. “This swill?”

Bubbles winced. “Yeah. Can we still do fifteen?”

“I was gonna pay you to fuckin’ take it,” said Frankie. “A G-note for all of it. That’s it.”

“A grand?” Bubbles stared at the man in disbelief. “For all of this? Are you kiddin’ me? That stuff’s worth way more than a grand!”

“Well, then fuckin’ keep it.”

“Hey, guys,” said Ricky. “The author’s too lazy to write what happens next, so we’ll have to fast-forward to me and Bubbles headin’ to the court with with the bag of of ten-thousand dollars.”

Frankie sighed. “I’ll go get the money.”

* * *

Ricky and Bubbles had sold all their vehicles. Well, Ricky didn’t lose his car, but Bubbles had lost both of his babies. Saying goodbye to LGBT, his beautiful, loving truck wasn’t easy; it hurt like a motherfucker and Julian better fucking appreciate it. 

“I know it sucks, buddy,” Rick began. “But they’re just cars.”

“I know, Ricky, but my dream car! My dream car, gone. My perfect little truck, gone.” Bubbles whimpered. “Fuckin’ Julian better appreciate this.”

“He will, buddy,” Ricky said. “I mean… we’ll get your cars back. If we don’t, we’ll get you something just as nice.”

“No, Ricky, it’s just like--”

Out of nowhere, a red car pulled out in front of them, making Ricky hit the brakes with all the force he could muster. They almost crashed. Bubbles heart almost stopped. 

“Watch where you’re goin’, you blind bastard!” Ricky yelled at the red car’s driver. 

Out of the car, stepped a man with a mask on his face, a gun in his hand. 

“Fuck, Ricky, he’s got a mask!” cried Bubbles, terrified. 

“Not a fuckin’ chance!” Ricky shouted, opening the glove box and feeling around for his handgun. When he found it, he held it and flipped the safety off with his thumb. 

“I’ll blow you fuckin’ heads off!” threatened the masked man, the barrel of his gun directed right at Ricky. 

Ricky accidentally pulled the trigger, shooting his leg. He cried in agony. “Fuck!”

“Fuck! Jesus Christ!” cried Bubbles.

“You think I’m fuckin’ around!” the man shouted. 

Bubbles whimpered, picking up the money bag that lied on the floorboard of the passenger side. 

“No, Bubbles!” Ricky clasped Bubbles’ left arm. “No!”

“Money! Now!” said the the masked man, turning his gun at Bubbles.

Bubbles gave a frightened look. “Ricky!”

Ricky loosened his grip on Bubbles’ arm, muttering curses to his himself. 

“Here, here!” he handed the bag over to the man. 

The man in the mask took the money bag and scurried away and into his car. 

“Fuck!” Ricky cried again, remembering the sharp pain in his leg. He kept mumbling curses under his breath as Bubbles began wrapping the bullet wound with a tape that he’d found in the glove box. 

They wouldn’t be able to pay neither Steinberg nor Gary. They were fucked, Ricky realized, suddenly forgetting about the agonizing twinges that occurred within his leg. 

* * *

Meanwhile, at the courthouse, Julian sat in the waiting room, anxiously tapping his right leg. He wore his black suit that Bubbles had cleaned and pressed for him. His friend knew that a clean appearance was admired at court.

An attractive woman who walked into the room caught his attention; and when he took a good look at her, it was none other than his ex-girlfriend, Candy. She was as beautiful as ever.

“Candy?” said Julian.

The woman turned to face him, and he was met with the striking beauty of her features. “Wow,” she said with a small chuckle. “Hey.”

“Hi,” replied Julian, his mouth curling into a smile. 

Candy gave him a quick once-over. “Nice suit,” she complimented him.

“Thank you,” said Julian. “You look fantastic.” And she did. By God, she was one hell of a looker. 

“Thank you,” Candy said, her face lighting up with a smile. She was so beautiful. 

Since she hadn’t mentioned why she was in court, Julian decided to ask. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Uh, I’m the Crown prosecutor,” she answered. 

Julian wasn’t surprised, really. She was smart and had always been studious and hard-working; he remembered her being exceptionally dedicated to her old job as as a practicing lawyer. “Hmm… Wow, good for you!”

“Thanks,” she said, giving him another smile. 

“Good goin’!” said Julian. 

Candy was silent for sometime. “I see things haven’t changed much for you, huh?” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” lied Julian. “I’m takin’ the fall for some kids.”

(He’s a great actor, isn’t he?)

However, he continued. “You get a record when you’re a kid, your life’s ruined, y’know?” A pause. “I know that.”

“Got it,” said Candy. “So you’re just… innocent and you’re covering for the kids who have all signed written statements to the contrary.”

“Yeah, I told them to do it,” he lied, again. 

“Oh,” Candy uttered. 

“They’re a great bunch of kids,” said Julian. “They just need some guidance.”

“Okay.” Candy said. 

Julian took a step closer to her, lowered his voice, and said, “look… not that I need it, but… do you think you could go a little easier on me now that you know the deal?” He’d made a big mistake when he asked that of the prosecutor herself. “You know, five to seven is fucked.”

Apparently, being a former partner of a prosecutor doesn’t grant you any privileges; because, after he’d asked her to ‘go a little easier on him’, what he’d gotten in response was a dry “seriously?”

Candy scoffed. “Wow… you know what, Julian, you should have made some choices and grown up, like I did.” She paused. “You know, I’ve worked my ass of to get where I am today, so I take my job really seriously.”

“Okay,” Julian said, after a bit of awkward silence. 

“Good luck in there.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’ll need it,” she said, before leaving for the courtroom. 

When Candy walked away, Steinberg walked in. “There goes the dragon queen,” he said, watching as Candy entered the courtroom. “But don’t worry about it.”

Julian was worried about it, actually. Big time. 

“Are you ready to do this, big boy? Hmm?” Steinberg asked Julian. “Everything in place with Gary?”

“I hope so. I haven’t heard anything different, man.”

“Got it,” said the lawyer. “You got my money?”

Julian sighed. “I’m assuming so, man, but I don’t know where the fuck those guys are.” 

“Alright,” said Steinberg. “Well, look, I’ll wait for them. You should head on in; it’s better for me to be late than you.”

“Alright.” Julian turned and walked toward the courtroom. 

“Oh, uh, ba-ba-ba-ba!” here comes Steinberg’s signature ‘Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba.’ 

Julian stopped short and turned halfway around, one eyebrow raised. 

“You look great.” Steinberg gave him a thumbs-up. “Piece of cake! Gonna win!”

Julian resisted the ever-strong urge to roll his eyes. “Alright,” he said, opening the door to the courtroom and going in. 

When the door closed, Steinberg looked at the two men sitting in the waiting seats and said, “you fellas need an attorney?”

* * *

Ricky bursted out of his car, one leg bloodied and wrapped in tape. It looked to be in serious need of medical attention, but Ricky was in too much of a hurry to worry about a little bullet wound. 

“Just wait, just wait, Ricky,” Bubbles held his friend’s shoulder to stop him. “I can’t go in there and just watch him go to jail forever.”

“Fuck,” mumbled Ricky. 

“I just can’t do it.”

“We’ve got to get in there!” said Ricky. When Bubbles whimpered and began crying, he internally kicked himself in the balls. “Goddamn it!” 

Ricky walked into the courthouse, leaving Bubbles at the gate; waiting for him and, hopefully, Julian. 

“Jesus Hubert Christ!” said Steinberg when he saw Ricky. “What the hell happened to you, buddy?”

“We had the fuckin’ ten grand and this cock-sucking, whore’s bastard child fucking robbed us at gunpoint, took the money, and made me shoot myself in the leg.” Ricky explained, not taking a single pause to breathe. 

“Ba-ba-ba-ha… you don’t have my money?”

“No,” answered Ricky. “We’re fuckin’ good for it. Gonna take us more time to come up with it.”

“Yeah, but you did pay Gary though, right?”

“Couldn’t. But we’ll fuckin’ pay him, it’s all good.”

“Yeah, great,” said Steinberg. “Well, that’s the end of it. People who commit perjury don’t take IOUs. And given the updated situation, neither do I.”

Ricky wrinkled his face. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“Look, Julian is fucked,” Steinberg pointed at the courtroom, “which means I don’t get paid; which means I’m the hell outta here!”

Ricky looked down, processing what had just happened. 

“Look, if you need something in the next five to seven years, gimme a jangle,” Steinberg said, making a call-me sign with his thumb and pinky. 

“Fuck that!” said Ricky. “Where the fuck do I even go?”

“In the courtroom, asshat!” Steinberg shouted from the hallway. 

“Ah, fuck,” Ricky cursed under his breath. 

He limped toward the courtroom and opened the door. “Hey, what the fuck’s up?” he said. 

He saw Julian at the front bench, sitting in silence, and realized just how much he didn’t want his best friend to fucking go to jail. 

“Thank fuck!” whispered Julian as Ricky walked over to the bench. “What the hell happened?” he asked, when he saw the fucked-up state of Ricky’s leg. 

“I got fuckin’ shot,” Ricky whispered back to him. “Some dick-less, shit-blooded cock bandit fuckin’ robbed us, took all the money. You’re fucked, man, I’m sorry.”

Julian frowned. “Oh, Jesus Christ! Where the hell’s Steinberg? He’s got to get-- get them to fuckin’ delay this trial.”

“Yeah, about that,” Ricky whispered, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t think it’s gonna happen. He just fuckin’ quit because we didn’t have his money.”

Julian let out heavy sigh, while Ricky glanced around the courtroom.

“Is that Candy over there?” he asked Julian, when he noticed the beautiful woman standing on the other side of the room. 

“Yes,” answered Julian. 

“She smart?”

“Very,” Julian said miserably. 

Ricky pursed his lips with a frown. “We’re fucked.”

“All rise,” said the bailiff. “The honorable Judge Ticklebury presiding.” 

Everyone within the courtroom rose before the judge.

“Be seated,” the judge instructed. “Will the defendant and his counsel please rise?”

Julian exchanged an apprehensive glance with Ricky before rising from his seat. “Uh, Your Honor-- sir, uh… my lawyer just quit on me for some unknown reason.”

“So you have no representation?” the judge questioned. 

“Well, I did, but now he’s--”

“But now you don’t,” said the judge. “So you have no representation, correct?”

_What a dick_ , thought Julian. 

“Uh, correct, but can I motion that thingy forth to maybe delay this until I get another lawyer, please?”

Candy, the prosecutor for the Crown, stood up. “Your Honor, this is a ploy to delay the trial; because it’s an open-and-shut case. You know, the evidence against defendant is overwhelming and it’s a complete waste of the court’s time.”

Judge Ticklebury nodded solemnly. “Duly noted, Counsel.”

“Thank you,” said Candy, reclaiming her seat. 

Ricky, unexpectedly, jumped in with, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Waste of time?” he snorted, then pointed at Gary, who sat on a bench way in the back. “That lying sack of human dog shit, right there, is the only evidence they have, and he is fucked! Look at him, he can’t--”

“Order!” the judge demanded. “You watch your mouth in my courtroom, sir.”

Ricky pulled a face. “Yeah, okay. What-the-fuck-ever.”

“Excuse me? And who exactly are you?” questioned the judge. “And what are you doing in my courtroom? And why are you seated next to the defendant?”

“Actually,” Ricky began, “as of right now, I’m representing my friend Julian here, okay? My name is Ricky LaFleur and I’ve been around courtrooms enough to know what the fuck is what.”

“Better watch your language, son. I won’t tolerate it,” warned the judge. He noticed the tape twisted around Ricky’s leg and asked, “What is that stuck to your leg? Are you bleeding?”

“Actually, I am. Pretty fuckin’ badly. I’m in a lot of pain,” Ricky groaned in false agony. His leg still hurt, but he was used to getting shot; he faked suffering to tug at the judge’s heartstrings, which, if the look of sympathy on the judge’s face was anything to go by, had successfully worked. “I got shot less than ten minutes ago, by someone that that fucking asshole hired, ‘cause he knew I was gonna talk at the trail and fuck everything up!”

“I’m sorry, what… what are you insinuating?” the judge asked. 

“Oh, my God, please! Fuck off with the big, fancy, judgey-type words!” said Ricky. “I don’t understand them. Nobody does. So you can stop showin’ off with your mastering of the Eng-a-lish language. Nobody’s impressed.”

“Final warning,” judge Ticklebury held up a finger to warn Ricky off. “I’ll find you in contempt.” Then, he said, “You do know what the word ‘contempt’ means?”

“Yeah, I certainly do. I’ve been fined for fucking contempt many times, I’m not afraid to be fined for it again.” Ricky’s malapropism earned a sigh from the judge. “I’m just tryin’ to save a completely innocent man, here, from goin’ to jail. He was fuckin’ framed!”

Candy rose from her seat. “Objection, Your Honor… This is insane! You can’t let this mockery of our justice system continue, sir.”

“It’s not a fuckin’ mocklery, so fuck off with that shit--” Ricky took a step back. “You know what? I’m sorry. Listen, it’s really, really hard for me to talk without swearing. That’s the way most normal people talk: they swear. I’m sure you swear when you’re not wearin’ that weird, little robe, but anyway… My friend Julian here was workin’ at the mall doin’ security, when dick-flapper over here decides to go on some trip to get fuckin’ learnt on somethin’, supposedly, and while he’s gone, Julian has this great idea. He sets up this undercover sting operation to catch shoplifters. And when sour-cream-glazed dick nuts over here--” he pointed at Gary, “--returned, he was so fuckin’ jealous ‘cause Julian kicked ass and did such a good job, he was actually, really scared. He was afraid that he was gonna lose his fuckin’ job and get replaced by Julian. So, in his mind, his only option is to fuckin’ frame Julian for shoplifting. The only way he could save his career; his living-hood. So that’s what he fuckin’ did. You’re a terrible person, Gary! Shame on you, sir!”

“Bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit!” Gary snapped, accusing Ricky of bullshitting. Well, yeah, Ricky was lying; but it was for the greatest good. Julian was his best friend, and he wouldn’t stand there, watching him go to jail because of a pity organized crime that had gone terribly wrong. No, he would fucking not. 

“Oh, yeah?” said Ricky. 

“You fucking liar!” Gary shouted. “I’ve got it in tape, for fuck’s sake!”

“Okay,” muttered Ricky, sitting back down on the bench. 

“What is wrong with you people?” said judge Ticklebury. “Are you all atheists? This is a provincial fucking courtroom, for fuck--”

Ricky regarded the judge with an I-told-you-so look. “See? It’s not that easy, is it?” Everyone swears now and then; it’s hue-man nature. “Our apologies, your lordship, on our end,” Ricky said to the judge, before turning around and pointing and accusing finger at Gary. 

“The only reason you have Julian on tape, pretending to fuckin’ steal, is ‘cause he was deep, deep undercover. You stupidy-stupid, dumb dummy! If you’d just bothered to fuckin’ ask him, before you called the cops, you have known that! But, you know what, Gary?” Ricky turned back around to face the judge. “Right now, I wanna talk about another fact. I wanna talk about the fact that you tried to blackmail us into paying you five-fuckin’-thousand dollars, and -- this is a nice one -- he tried to make us have a naked, candlelit, lemony-scented bubble bath with him, just so he would come clean and tell the fuckin’ truth in court! That is fucked!” The redhead twisted his neck to glare at Gary. “What do you think about that, there, Caesar-salad cock? You wanna fuckin’ talk about those--“

“Order!” the judge demanded. “Enough! Enough!” He looked between Ricky and Gary. “What in the name of Jesus Christs’s earlobe is going on here?”

“Good question,” muttered Ricky. 

“Counsel,” the judge said, “approach the bench now, please.” 

“Sure,” said Ricky, getting up off his seat. 

“Not you!” exclaimed the judge. “You and your potty mouth can stay put.”

“Fine,” Ricky said, shrugging before holding his hands up in the air. “I’m just tryin’ to figure out how something like this could happen in such a perfect country. Where the fuck are we right now, the West Koreas? This is fucked!”

“Stop talking!” the judge said in a warning tone. “Now I’m serious.”

“Alright. No problem,” said Ricky.

“Sit down!” the judge ordered. 

“Right now?” 

“Yes!”

“Okay, I’m sitting, fuck,” Ricky muttered, reclaiming his seat next to Julian. 

“Now,” judge Ticklebury said to Candy, leaning across the bench, “Counsellor, can you please shed some light on all of this? Are any of the accusations true against your only witness? You know, blackmail; naked bubbles baths?” he questioned. “What in the name of Moses’ babygirl is going on here?”

“My apologies, Your Honor,” said Candy. “I received this case only yesterday, after the other Crown counsel was arrested, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, I heard,” replied the judge. “It was a shame. I had a coke problem in my fifties. It’s a tough thing to shake.” 

“Oh, yeah. Indeed,” Candy said, nodding. 

“Speakin’ of cocaine,” Ricky jumped in, “you guys were just talkin’ about cocaine there, I think. Well, Gary has a massive fuckin’ cocaine problem.” Ricky turned his head halfway around, fixing Gary with loathsome look. “Maybe you should talk about how you were stealing from the mall to support your fuckin’ habbit, Gary. Let’s talk about that right now!”

“More fucking lies!” Gary spat. “I-- I was at an ashram.”

“Hmm… a coke ashram.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Gary spat, again; threatening. 

“Okay, seriously? Death threats?” said the judge, before banging the gavel. “Seven days contempt of court!” 

“Fuck you, Gary!” Ricky said, grinning when he saw Gary’s helpless expression. 

“Anyone else want some?” the judge said, referring to court contempt. 

“I’m good,” Ricky muttered. 

The judge brought his attention back to the prosecutor. “So… continue.”

“Right,” said Candy. “So, Your Honor, I had literally five hours to prepare for this case, so this is the first time that I’m hearing about naked bubble baths and--“

“And blackmail,” said the judge.

Ricky jumped in with, “And cocaine! There’s the cocaine as well.”

The judge ignored Ricky’s interruption. “But your entire case revolves around the testimony of the witness, does it not?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” answered Candy. 

“So what do you have to say?”

“I guess I’m fucked on this one too, sir,” Candy said with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, I think you are,” judge Ticklebury said, nodding, then tipped his chin toward the wooden gavel that sat on the cedar bench. “I’m gonna walk over to my gavel and make a decision.”

“Okay,” Candy muttered.

The judge sat on his bench and took the gavel in his hand, holding it firmly. “Clearly, the Crown is not prepared to proceed, so I have no other option but to declare the case dismissed.”

Ricky and Julian blinked a couple of times, then looked at each other. They both laughed in unison, standing up and hugging each other tightly.

“You’re a good fuckin’ man there, Judge Ticklebury!” Ricky called to the judge before leaving the courtroom. 

When they came out of the courthouse, they were greeted with the sight of a distressed Bubbles. The frown on Bubbles’ face deepened when he saw his friends. “What happened! What happened!” he exclaimed. “Why did Steinberg leave?” 

“He took off, man,” Julian said. Then, he pointed at Ricky. “He defended me.”

Bubbles frown grew wider. “Ah! Fuck!” _Ricky must have fucked up_ , he thought. 

“He was amazing,” Julian said, placing a hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “He put on a clinic-- He’s the smartest man I know, right there.”

Ricky grinned. “I’ve been sayin’ that my whole fuckin’ life.”

“Rick,” Julian looked at his friend with earnest sincerity in his eyes, “I’ll never forget this, buddy. Thank you.”

Ricky put his hand over Julian’s. “That was way too close, man,” he said. “I love you, buddy.”

“Love you too,” Julian responded with a squeeze to Ricky’s shoulder. “That was way too close.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way I was letting you go away for that long. Fuck that!” said Ricky, draping his left arm over Julian’s shoulder, and his right over Bubbles’.

The three of them hugged, Bubbles giggled contentedly, and Julian looked at Ricky with a disgustingly adoring smile. 

Bubbles, however, ruined the moment when he said: “Now I hope you understand what the fuck I’ve been sayin’!” His voice trembled and broke. “I thought you were gonna do hard time, Julian!”

“I thought I was fucked for good that time, and I’ve never felt that way before in my life,” Julian said to Bubbles. “That was…scary.”

“The crime and the bullshit, boys, it’s fuckin’ done!” Bubbles scolded. “That’s it! Final word. That goes for you too, Ricky.”

Ricky threw both his hands in the air. “I’m never breakin’ the law again. I’m good.”

“Hey, Julian,” a womanly voice called from behind. “Guys,” she said to Ricky and Bubbles, acknowledging them with a nod and smile. 

“Hi,” replied Ricky. 

Candy brought her eyes to Julian. “Wow…” she said. “It is really freaky seein’ you again.”

“Big-time,” Julian said, smiling warmly. 

She rested a hand on Julian’s forearm, a gesture of comfort and support. “I’m really sorry that asshole tried to blackmail you.”

“It’s alright,” said Julian. 

“Son of a bitch,” Candy said, looking sympathetically at the dark-haired man. “Drug addicts, you know?”

Julian nodded. “The worst.”

“They’re the worst,” Candy agreed. 

“Yep,” Julian muttered, mostly to himself. 

“Yeah…” Candy’s right hand disappeared into the pocket of her blazer jacket, returning with a small card. “Hey, here’s my card,” she handed it over to Julian. “You know, just in case.”

Julian accepted the card. “Okay,” he said, giving Candy a smile. 

“It’s good to see, Julian,” Candy said, then turned and left. 

“You too!” Julian called to her back. 

“Bye,” said Ricky, waving his hand. 

“Bubbs,” Julian said to his friend, whose eyes were glued to Candy’s elegant, perfectly shaped backside, “stop staring at her ass.”

“I-- I wasn’t staring!” Bubbles said, lying. 

“You were staring right at her,” said Julian. 

“I looked at it,” Bubbles admitted, “and it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Ricky agreed, turning around to catch a glimpse of the said ass. 

Julian nodded his head. “Very nice.” And damn, was Candy’s ass a fucking view. 

Bubbles patted Julian on the back then made his way to Ricky’s wrecked Sedan. “Let’s go, boys,” he said. 

When Bubbles got into the backseat of the car, Julian turned to Ricky. “Hey, bud,” he said, “um… you-- uh, wanna grab a drink later? At my place.”

Ricky scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure-- we should, uh… get drunk to celebrate.”

“Yeah…” Julian studied Ricky. “We should.”

“Hey, Julian,” Ricky looked down at his feet. “You remember that night, right?”

Julian was silent for a long, long moment. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, I do.”

“I remember it in detail,” said Ricky. “Fuck, Julian… I think I’m gay.”

A pause. 

“What the fuck! Julian, I think I might be gay for you!” Ricky blurted, freaking out.

Julian’s heart did a weird movement in his chest, almost like a jumping jack. 

“That’s fucked! You’re my best friend! What th--”

“Hey, hey, Rick,” Julian grasped both of Ricky’s shoulders. “Look at me, buddy.”

Ricky raised his gaze to Julian’s face. 

Julian let out a sigh. “As I see it, we both might not be all that straight. And… I think I love you, buddy. Love-love you.”

Ricky blinked. “You mean a romance-type kinda love?”

A smile pulled at Julian’s lips. “Yes. A romance-type kinda love.”

Ricky returned Julian’s smile. “Fuck, that sounds nice.”

“It is,” said Julian, his hand now-caressing Ricky’s jaw. 

Ricky surprised Julian when he took his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. Julian had probably gasped then. He wasn’t sure; couldn’t think about anything except the sensation of Ricky’s lips against his palm. H e felt a fervent impulse to kiss Ricky’s stupid, ridiculously handsome face. But, seeing as they were standing right in front of a courthouse, he decided against it. Oh, and Bubbles was banging on the window for them to hurry the fuck up and get in the car. So, yeah, he couldn’t act on his desire.

“So…” Ricky began, “when we bang -- and we will -- how’s it gonna be? Do I fuck you or is it the other way around?”

Julian internally kicked himself in the dick for not expecting this question. It was Ricky; he would eventually throw that embarrassing question at him. 

“We can take turns or somethin’. I mean, if you’re into that,” Julian said, color rising in his face. He, then, hit Ricky on the shoulder and said, “C’mon, bud, let’s go.”

Ricky smirked. “Well, I know this: I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you, big-time,” he said, planting his hand on Julian’s ass and squeezing it harshly. Julian squirmed, which urged Ricky to squeeze even harder, then top it off with a slap. 

Julian elbowed Ricky in the ribs (not in a cute way). “Quit it!” 

Ricky howled in pain, doubling over . “You-- you won’t be sayin’ that tonight when I bang the attitude out of you,” he said. Julian sighed and shook his head as he made his way to the passenger’s side door. 

However, Julian’s dick seemed to like Ricky’s dirty talk; it was painfully erect the whole drive back home. He’d greeted his neighbors and friends in Sunnyvale with the erection still very present beneath his pants. Thankfully, no one seemed to be heedful of it.

Except Ricky. Fucking Ricky. 

He was smirking at Julian the whole evening. 

after sharing a few drinks with Sarah and and some of his friends, Julian walked back to his trailer. He unlocked the door and walked inside, closing the door behind him. He switched on the lights and made a beeline to the couch, letting himself fall down onto it. 

“Hey, Jules” Ricky’s voice came from behind, scaring the ever-loving shit out of Julian. 

“What the fuck!” Julian said. “How’d you get in?”

“Spare key,” answered Ricky. “You gave it to me, ‘member?”

“Yeah,” said Julian, settling back into the couch. 

Ricky walked over to where Julian was, and stood in front of him.

“What?” Julian said, one eyebrow raised. 

“Suit off,” was what Ricky said. “We’re gonna fuck.”

Julian instantly stripped his suit off. 

They were both naked on the couch, Julian on top of Ricky, riding him like it was his job, panting and moaning and grunting. 

The door creaked open, but Ricky and Julian didn’t hear anything; that was, until a gasp erupted and scared the fuck out of them. 

It was Trinity. And Moe. And Jacob. 

Ricky, swiftly, clutched each side of Julian’s sturdy waist and reversed their position so that he was on top of Julian, his pelvis between Julian’s thighs. He grabbed the throw that lied over one of the couch armrests and used to cover their nakedness.

It was too late. The intruders had seen everything.

“Get out!” Ricky shouted.

Trinity grimaced. “Ew! Dad, what the fuck!” she said. “Fuckin’ lock the front door if you’re gonna bang in here.”

“You guys can keep going,” Jacob said, plucking Motel from the floor and placing a hand over his eyes. “We-- uh, we’re leaving.”

“Yes, please. Get the fuck out,” said Julian in a slightly raspy voice. 

Trinity and Jacob went out the door, then Ricky said, “Don’t fuckin’ tell Lucy, neither of you! You hear me?”

“Whatever, Dad!” she called out to him, closing the door behind her. 

Julian sighed, looked down at his dick. “Fuck! I’m soft.”

Ricky spat in his hand and curled it around Julian’s softening cock. “Not if I do this.” He began stroking Julian’s length earnestly, his big hand moving up and down, from the base to the head. He let his thumb flick over the tip, earning a squirm from the man underneath him. Ricky pulled his cock out of Julian, then thrusted back in, making a gasp rip its way out of Julian’s throat. 

He fucked Julian mercilessly, timing his thrusts with his strokes, breathing hotly against Julian neck and whispering erotic little things into his ear; telling him that he was doing so good, that his ass was squeezing his dick, and that he looked so good underneath him. 

Those words, in Ricky’s voice, were pushing Julian closer to climax. 

Ricky was slamming violently into him, his long, thick cock hitting his prostate deliciously again and again, and Julian was getting closer to his peak with each hit. 

“Fuck, Ricky! I’m close!”

When his orgasm arrived, it sent surges of pure pleasure through his body, making his cock twitch and stiffen further upward; making his testicles tighten. It stole his breath away. He flexed his ring of muscles around Ricky’s hard length, groaned lowly, then cried Ricky’s name, shooting spurts of come out of his cock, smearing his and Ricky’s abdomen with it as he shook involuntarily with the force of his orgasm. 

Ricky thrusted a couple more times, and when he felt his peak approaching, he pulled out suddenly -- surprising Julian in the process -- and began stroking his cock. 

In a deep, raspy voice, he said, “Open your mouth, Julian.”

Julian couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Ricky wanted to come inside his mouth, and wanted him to-- what? Swallow his fucking semen. He certainly hadn’t fucking anticipated that.

Julian, despite not liking Ricky’s greasy method, sat up -- wincing in pain when he did -- and hesitantly opened his mouth. 

“Wider!” said Ricky, panting as he worked up and down his cock. “Open wider!”

Julian did as told, opening his mouth wider. All at once, come spilled out of Ricky’s cock, some of it went into his mouth, some coated his face. It was a lot of fucking seed. 

It was almost like being anointed, but in Ricky’s come instead of oil. 

Julian swallowed it, grimacing at the taste but not complaining. It didn’t taste bad, really; it was salty and a bit meaty. It reminded him of gravy, kind of. 

“You look so fuckin’ hot right now,” Ricky murmured, before licking his come off Julian’s jaw; tasting his own release. 

“You greasy fucker,” Julian chuckled. “This was… fuckin’ amazing.”

Ricky grinned, ever the smug bastard. “You’re welcome.”

Julian couldn’t help the fond sigh that escaped him at that. 

“Hey,” Ricky said. 

Julian ran a hand through Ricky’s disheveled hair. “What?”

“I’m starving,” said Ricky. “You got pepperoni, right?”

“Yeah, look in the fridge. There’s some in there.”

“Great,” Ricky said, getting off Julian and stretching his body. “Need some energy for round two.”

It took Julian a few moments to process. “Round… No fuckin’ way, Ricky. I’m too fuckin’ tired. And too old, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“It’s okay,” said Ricky, raising his hands in the air. “Not judging.”

“I don’t care if you fuckin’ judge me, Ricky. I’m spent.”

Ricky seemed to have taken mercy on Julian. The problem was, he was still too fucking horny. He cursed his stamina as he walked over to the refrigerator to get a cock of pepperoni. 

Like the man that he was, he decided to jerk off in the bathroom after he’d finished off two sticks of pepperoni. 

When he came out of the bathroom, Julian wasn’t in the living area. He must’ve gone to his room while Ricky was taking care of business. 

Ricky made his way to Julian’s room, opening the door quietly. And, there Julian was, all cleaned up, wearing a fresh pair of boxer briefs, lying on the bed and looking at the TV, not really watching it. 

“Hey,” Julian said when he saw Ricky at the door. “C’mere,” he patted the unoccupied space on the bed. 

Ricky walked over to Julian’s bed, lay down, and shut his eyes as he drew in a deep breath.

Julian turned off the television with the remote. “You okay, bud?”

“Dandy,” replied Ricky. “Jus’ wanna sleep.”

”Hmm,” muttered Julian. He lied down and moved closer to Ricky, looking at him with an affectionate gaze that reminded Ricky of the past; it made him think of a younger Julian. A Julian who would lie down with him in the grass, and listen to him rave on for a long while. And sometimes, Ricky would sleep, and a hand would caress his cheek, then hesitantly travel to his hair, combing through it ever so gently.

And that was what Julian did. He brought a hand to Ricky’s head of hair, and began combing through it, slow and tender, presently massaging his scalp with his fingers. Ricky sighed, groaned, hummed and made all sorts of pleasant sounds as Julian kneaded his scalp. And, in a drowsy, tired tone, he called Julian’s name.

“Hmm?” answered Julian.

“I love you,” said Ricky. “Romance-type kinda--” 

He drifted off before he could complete his sentence, snoring softly. Julian sighed, smiling in contentment.

“I guess I have no choice but to love you,” he whispered, fondly gazing at Ricky’s peaceful, sleeping face. And as a cool breeze wafted through the small crack in the window, floating into the moonlit room, Julian said, in a mellow voice: 

“I love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated. <3


End file.
